Luke rubbed his fat cockhead up and down her pink, wet slit a couple times before pushing it into her. She held her breath and Calvin quickly put his hand over her mouth, which was a good thing because she let out a loud cry as soon as she felt Luke’s entire cock slide into her. He was long and thick, much bigger than any other man she had ever had sex with. She felt him slide his cock all the way out before penetrating her again and keeping a constant rhythm.
After adjusting to Luke thrusting in and out of her, she looked back at Calvin’s monstrous, black cock right in front of her face. She took in a deep breath before wrapping her pink lips around the dark head and sucking. Calvin groaned and grabbed a lock of her hair. He began to move his hips back and forth slightly so the top part of his cock moved back and forth in her mouth as she sucked. She felt her mouth open wide, stretched, trying to keep his cock in. He was even bigger than Luke. I can’t even imagine what he’ll feel like inside me, she thought as she tried not to choke. She wrapped one hand as much as she could around the base of his cock and stroked as she sucked on him. She swallowed and tried to take more into her mouth but he was too huge to take much more.
He continued to rock his hips but never got rough, never forced more of his cock into her mouth than he could handle. Meanwhile, Luke had started picking up the pace of his thrusts and was pretty soon drilling her fast but not hard. She felt him grip her waist and say, “You ready?” She pulled her head back so Calvin’s cock slid entirely out of her mouth and looked over her shoulder, eyebrow raised in question. Luke smirked and said, “Here we go.” He began to pound into her hard and fast, before shifting his body to change the angle of penetration. She yelped out and Calvin hurried to cover her mouth, from which more and more moans escaped. Calvin continued to pound into her, the angle deep and just right to hit a sensitive spot. She began to gyrate her hips back against him and felt an orgasm hit her hard right as his movements became jerky. She felt his cum filling her before he collapsed back on the couch and said, “Your turn.”
Calvin did not waste a single second in placing his hands under her arms and raising her up. He looked up and down her body, pale skin covered with a thin sheen of sweat. He flicked one of her pink, perky nipples with the tip of his tongue before wrapping one arm around her waist and the other under her ass. He held her up, body still weak from the orgasm, and had her wrap her legs around him.
“You ready for this cock?”
“Mmmm,” was all she could muster but he asked again, demanding she say more.
“Mmmhhm, I’m ready for that big, black cock to be inside me,” she whimpered. But she was not sure if she was entirely ready. She wanted him, that was sure, but she was more apprehensive about his size than she had been with Luke.
He let his hard cock bob against her wet slit as he said, “This big cock is gonna stretch out that little white pussy of yours.” He shifted and she felt the head of his cock right at her opening and, before she knew it, he thrust his hips upward so fast it slid in entirely. She yelped at the feeling of him inside her, stretching her and hitting a spot that had never been reached before. He slid out enough so the bottom of his head rubbed against her clit before he thrust back into her. He did this a few more times before he started thrusting faster but like with the blowjob, he never got rough with her. He was holding onto her waist tight enough that it began to hurt but the sensation of his cock in her was so overwhelming, she barely even registered it.
“I’m gonna cum,” he grunted out before smacking his lips against hers to initiate a rough kiss. His hips jerked and she felt him finish inside her before sliding out. He placed her back on the couch so she could catch her breath before handing her some wipes and tissues to clean up. The three of them were silent as they wiped the evidence of their threesome of their own bodies and off the couch. It was not until they were finished dressing and Luke was sitting behind his desk once again that Calvin cleared his throat and said, “Well, that was certainly as fun as I’d hoped.”
Nora smiled up at him, still slightly dazed but admiring how polite he was as this man versus how he talked during sex. What she did note, however, was he never got rough with her when it came time to take his cock. “Yes, it was.” She looked at both of them and smirked before adding, “I can’t say I’d mind having, uh, private meetings with you.” She was being honest but she would prefer Calvin if she had to choose.
He smiled warmly and said, “I think we can work something out.”
“Speaking of working something out,” said Luke from the other end of the room.
“I think we might be able to adjust one of those nasty little clauses on your agreement. I’ve been looking into it,” Calvin informed her.
Nora looked at him hopefully as a grin spread across her face.
“But you might need to get nasty with us to, ahem, show appreciation,” Luke said lightheartedly.
The three of them laughed and Nora replied, “I think that can be worked out.”
--THE END--
The Insatiable CPA
Helena is a corporate accountant who specializes in real estate. Her services are in high demand, both for the quality of her work and the impeccable character of her reputation.
The white shoe accounting firm’s partners all refer to her as the Ice Queen, because she’s spurned all their advances. While the partners might not care for Helena, the clients love her.
Helena is off to her quarterly review of Benson & White’s books. Mister Benson and Mister White, both African-American, always insist on Helena appearing personally. Helena is happy to comply.
Once the accounting work is done, the liquor is broken out, and Mister Benson and Mister White assess Helena’s balance...under the sheets!
Helena wouldn’t have it any other way.
****
“Must be Benson & White day,” Jilly, my secretary said. “Let me check the calendar. Look at that! I was right. Benson & White day.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask as Jilly takes my trenchcoat.
“I can tell by your dress. Nice neckline, by the way. Even I want to jump you.”
“Hush now,” I said. “Make sure I’ve got a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue to bring with me.”
“Half a case left, Miss Beale,” Jilly said. “I never let you run out of the Blue. I know it lubricates your Benson & White audits, and they are your biggest account. Killer shoes, by the way, Miss Beale.”
I try not to sigh and headed into my office. Jilly was a bit of a nuisance, but I’d never had a better secretary. As the only female associate partner at Harkins & Priemann, I needed an ace of a secretary. The partners were sharks, and they’d love to take me down. Behind my back, the partners called me the Ice Queen. I didn’t mind that. I guessed I was, in some ways, an Ice Queen.
My hair didn’t get too mussed by my walk to work. I turned and checked out the back of my dress in the office mirror. Nice. No smudges, which was a miracle after taking public transit. My ivory lace dress with its peach silk lining was very susceptible to smudges. I loved it, though, because it made me look naked. I was a professional and highly rated accountant, expert in assessing values—I knew my body was my best asset.
The ten o’clock partners’ meeting was a typical bore. I particularly dreaded the partners’ meetings on the days I was scheduled for Benson & White. My closet had a special section for my Benson & White dresses, and they were all provocative, with plunging necklines. The partners at that day’s ten o’clock meeting practically had their tongues hanging out of their mouths. I tried not to notice, and spent a lot of time examining my French manicured nails. My calf slid silkily along my shin—yesterday’s wax was perfection itself. It normally took me two days to get ready for a Benson & White appointment, and that didn’t factor in any actual accounting work I’d do.
The company limo came for me at three. I always made the Benson & White appointment for four in the afternoon. That way I could get started while there were still employees around to get anyth
ing I might need, and when I finished all the employees would be gone for the day.
The limo dropped me off outside the narrow office tower that served as Benson & White’s headquarters. “Hello, Miss Beale,” the front desk clerk greeted me. I was only at Benson & White every three months. It was impressive that the front desk clerk recognized me, but I didn’t think he deserved the credit. Mister Benson and Mister White were sticklers for details. I was sure they insisted the front desk clerk know who I was. It was attention to detail like that which made Benson & White the most successful African-American real estate developer in a city filled with expert real estate developers.
But that wasn’t why I loved working on the Benson & White account.
Troy and Bernard were drop dead gorgeous, and perfect physical specimens, to boot. That was why I loved working for them—their perfect bodies, and how they used them.
An aide guided me to the conference room connecting Troy Benson and Bernard White’s offices. We were on the top floor of the tower, and the view stretching down Malcolm X Boulevard to Central Park was quite impressive.
“Can I get you anything, Miss Beale?” the aide asked me. I said no thanks, and kept it to myself that all I needed was some quiet time alone.
The books were in tip-top shape. Troy and Bernard would be able to borrow heavily on this balance sheet, which was exactly what they wanted. Sales at their three newest buildings were going better than hoped for, so there was much reason to celebrate. It was after seven by the time I finished. Once I was done, I went over to the wet bar, put three crystal water glasses on a small silver tray, and filled them with my Johnny Walker Blue.
Troy Benson loved it when I brought him his drink like I was a cocktail waitress. Part of the appeal, he confessed, was that I was a pale skinned redhead. Another part was that I was a high-powered executive at a prestigious accounting firm. There were only white workers at Troy Benson’s Greenwich estate, from the chauffeurs to the chefs to the gardeners. Troy Benson was taking his forty acres and his mule, bit by bit. I once asked him which I was, and he said both, because he plowed me and he rode me.
That got me so aroused.
I tapped on Troy Benson’s door.
“Enter,” he said.
My stiletto heels sank into the plush carpet, and I had to be careful not to spill the drinks. At two hundred dollars a bottle, I never wanted to spill Johnny Walker Blue. Plus, the carpet was probably worth a hundred bottles of Johnny Walker Blue.
“Would you like your drink, Mister Benson?” I asked.
“Bring it here,” he replied. Troy Benson was gazing out his window, down the long boulevard to Central Park. His strong hands were clasped behind his back. Troy Benson’s shoulders bulged through his Armani suit, and his jacket cut a handsome vee, perfectly tailored to his muscled back and narrow waist. His head was shaved, and I’d never seen a nick or a bit of stubble on it.
I placed the silver tray on his narrow onyx desk, and then brought his crystal glass filled with Johnny Walker Blue to him. Troy Benson took it without looking at me.
“How did we do this quarter?” Eyes on the horizon, he sipped his drink.
I knelt down in front of Troy Benson. This was the best part of my job. I was thankful to get off my heels, even if only for a little bit, and I was glad the carpet was so plush, making it easier on my knees. The island of Manhattan stretched out behind me. Anyone who knew where to look could see Troy Benson standing like the titan of business that he was while a pale white redhead wearing a killer dress knelt in front of him, pulled his cock out, and put it in her mouth.
The part where his cock grew hard in my mouth was what I most looked forward to. I didn’t know if I liked it because I knew it signaled our fun was about to begin, or if I liked it because it was a sign of how attractive he found me. I just knew I liked it.
Our meetings were every three months, and I never deep throated any men except for Troy Benson and Bernard White, so in the intervening months I always made sure to push a spoon to the back of my throat, to make sure I had full command of my gag reflex.
I swallowed Troy Benson’s huge cock with the ease of a trained courtesan. My throat massaged the tip of his cock. My tongue probed his soft underside. I rotated my head left and right, my cheeks hollowed out, and sucked on him gently. Troy Benson’s hand ran over my head, and he pulled the silver, diamond-encrusted combs from my hair. My red locks cascaded down to my shoulders.
“Why is it,” Troy Benson asked, “that rich white women give the best head?”
I grabbed his powerful ass with both hands, and pressed my nose to his pubic bone. With my hair hanging free, Troy Benson was able to dig his grip into my red tresses and press me firmly to him.
When I first saw Troy Benson’s cock, I thought I’d never be able to deep throat it. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. I had a tremendous will to please Troy Benson, so I found a way. I’d practiced with the biggest dildo I could find, which of course was black, until I could be sure to take Troy Benson without gagging.
I went the extra yard for my clients.
Troy Benson was clearly in a take-and-conquer frame of mind. He guided my head through his firm grip in my hair, and pumped me onto his cock. I made gagging noises, because I knew he liked that. He pressed me on and off his cock, and my fingers dug into his iron glutes. His fervor swelled, and so did his manhood. I felt his load travel down his cock, past my lips, before exploding in the back of my throat. I held his treasure in my mouth until he told me I could swallow.
“You did very well this quarter,” I said, answering his question from a while back. “Clearly you are a brilliant businessman, and smarter than your competitors.”
“Clearly,” Troy Benson replied. “Stand. Face the window.”
He unzipped my dress and let it fall to the floor. I stepped out of it, and then gathered it up, folding it, and placed it on the back of a chair. Once done with that, I stood in front of Troy Benson once more, facing the window. Troy Benson unclasped the back of my brassiere, and then he slipped it over my shoulders with both his hands. I shivered as his thick fingers brushed my skin.
We stood there, gazing out at Manhattan. I wore only my heels and a lacy thong, and he was fully clothed, with his cock hanging out. Troy Benson wrapped his arms around me, and pressed his cock into my lower back. He fondled my breast and danced his fingers over the lacy front of my thong. I leaned back into his embrace, not caring who could see us. Troy Benson’s lips nibbled where my neck met my torso. I shivered with joy.
“Mister White will be here soon,” Troy Benson said, “and then I shall have to share you.”
“You make the best of partners, Mister Benson,” I said. My knees buckled as Troy Benson flicked my clit.
“Easy now,” he said.
Troy Benson scooped me up and whirled around, placing me on his onyx desk. His lips found mine, and I moaned as his fingers continued to torture me down below.
My eyes were closed when another pair of hands slipped beneath the straps of my thong. The new hands whisked my thong away.
“Well, hello Mister White,” I said. “I was just telling Mister Benson here how brilliant you two are.”
“Is Mister Benson torturing you Miss Beale?”
“Deliciously so,” I replied.
Bernard White lifted my ankles up, and he kissed the inside of my calves. Resting my ankles on his shoulders, he proceeded to push his cock inside me. Troy Benson, behind me now, continued to kiss me while fondling my breasts. My fingers curled. I opened my eyes and looked up to see Bernard White’s brilliant smile beaming down at me, my killer shoes floating alongside his ears. Bernard’s long cock was stroking right up inside me, in just the right places, and my body thrummed with life.
My first orgasm came quickly, but that was the way our quarterly meetings always went. By the fifth one, I’d almost need an ambulance stretcher to get home. Almost.
Bernard’s cock pressed in and out of me in such an unhurried fash
ion that I thought I might explode. I couldn’t participate much, with my ankles up on his shoulders, and Troy Benson occupying my mouth. All I could do was clamp down on Bernard White with my cunt, and I did so at random intervals. From the sounds Bernard was making, he liked it.
Troy Benson’s hands flitted over my tits while Bernard came inside me. There was never any warning from Bernard White. He always came quietly, without preamble. More than once, Bernard White had shot a load in my eye, precisely because of his lack of preamble.
I was pulled off the desk and positioned back by the window. Troy Benson kissed my left ear while his right hand probed my behind. Bernard White nibbled on my right ear and drove his long fingers inside my pussy while the ball of his palm ground against my clit. I was pinned between these two studly billionaires, their hands grinding into me with familiar expertise, and I couldn’t be happier. I mewled at their touch.
Troy and Bernard lifted me up, and carried me to their secret lair, a room very few people had seen—what they liked to call the CEO rec room.
It was an oak lined bedroom on the west side of the tower. The sun was low on the horizon, settling over the Hudson River and New Jersey. They placed me on the king-size bed, and each grabbed an ankle. Troy and Bernard undid the straps on my killer heels, and set my feet free. I stretched my spread legs out, rolling my aching feet, and lay naked on the bed. There was no denying it. I loved this next part.
Framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that glowed orange with the setting sun, Troy and Bernard undid their ties and proceeded to strip naked. Their bodies were beautiful in different ways. Troy had more of a bodybuilder’s form, and Bernard had the ropy strength of a b-ball player. What they had in common was this: they were both delectable.
I shimmied back on the bed and reclined against the sea of pillows at the head. “Gentlemen,” I said. “The lady waits.”
They both smiled. Such great smiles. Bernard was always first into bed with me, because he just dropped his suit to the floor. Troy was a folder. He always put his clothes neatly on the cherry valet. There was something masochistic about how painstakingly Troy got himself naked, but I wasn’t sure if he was being masochistic to me or himself. Both, probably.
Interracial Romance: Gay Romance: Bound By His Own Desires (MMM Endowed Black Men Bondage Threesome Romance) (A Billionaire's Freedom Book 3) Page 131